What Your Favorite LaCroix Flavor Says About You

In 1981, the G. Heileman Brewing Company launched a line of seltzer in the hopes of cornering the market of consumers “put off by Perrier’s ‘snobbish positioning.’” They called it LaCroix.

There’s a lot to unpack here. I don’t know why you’d choose to counter Perrier’s effete marketing by giving your brand an equally French-sounding name. I 100 percent thought LaCroix was French for all of my life, but according to my research (Wikipedia), it actually originated in the Midwest and is now made in Florida.

Who knows. Perhaps LaCroix hoped that its cans’ sunscreen-like appearance would remind Americans of grungy town pools instead of white-tablecloth restaurants. I just feel like if your brand needs a special FAQ on your website devoted to the pronunciation of its name (“La-CROY, rhymes with enjoy”), you’re not really nailing the Everyday American thing.

Instead of coming across as an unpretentious alternative to French fizz, LaCroix has always struck me as the most up-its-own-ass seltzer on the market. I (irrationally) hate it. Because (a) it doesn’t taste as great as its devotees think it does, and (b) I’m predisposed to hate things lots of people love because I’m one of the snobs LaCroix was trying to get away from. I also happen to believe that the only true brand of seltzer is Polar and every other kind is trash.

HOWEVER. My office is stocked with free cans of LaCroix, and since I’m not about to look a gift fridge in the mouth, I choose to swallow my convictions on a daily basis. At this point, I’ve tried all the flavors, spent way too much time thinking about them, and developed completely unfounded, sweeping generalizations about how your go-to can dictates the most embarrassing thing about you. Such as:

“Tangerine is the flavor you told Orange not to worry about. Ever since Orange left the city, Tangerine’s been wearing less and going out more.”

Mango

You regularly enter sweepstakes for five-day cruises in the Caribbean.

Coconut

Coconut LaCroix tastes like pool water you jumped in after rubbing Banana Boat tanning oil all over your body. If this is your favorite flavor, you probably ate toothpaste as a kid.

Orange, Lime, Lemon, or Cran-Raspberry

You’re a traditionalist and think Millennials are entitled, even if you were born in ‘89. You can’t understand why restaurants deconstruct everything and serve it in skinny towers on top of itself now; just put the goddamn food on the goddamn plate!

Tangerine

In a world with orange in it, there’s no reason for tangerine to exist. Tangerine is the GOP replacement plan and Orange is Obamacare. If this is your default, you’re the kind of person who gets the new iPhone as soon as it comes out and then finds a reason to look something up during every conversation so that everyone can see you have it. Tangerine is the flavor you told Orange not to worry about. Ever since Orange left the city, Tangerine’s been wearing less and going out more.

Passionfruit

You have shoplifted from Bath & Body Works.*

* I once walked out of a Bath & Body Works with a bottle of cucumber-melon lotion in seventh grade and didn’t return it once I realized what I’d done.

Pamplemousse

Pamplemousse is “the French translation for the word grapefruit and show of humor from this all-American brand,” according to LaCroix’s website. I don’t know how saying grapefruit in French is funny, but I do know that if this is your favorite flavor, you’d probably find a public marriage proposal romantic. Like, at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Or on a jumbotron at a Knicks game.

Apricot

If you were a Sex and the City character, you’d be a Charlotte who thinks she’s a Samantha.* You play Blood Orange on Spotify during work hours so your friends see it pop up on their sidebar, but you listen to The Chainsmokers on Apple Music so no one will know. You own boat shoes.

* I’m a Charlotte who thinks she’s a Samantha.

Berry

You’ve shared fake news on Facebook.

The Cúrate line

Comes in those skinny cans and has names like Pomme Bayá and Cerise Limón. You might be the kind of person who drinks Skinny Girl margaritas, which is actually the most offensive thing in this whole post.

Peach-Pear

This flavor tastes like someone melted down one of those clear gummy bears and infused it into the can, but in a good way. It’s so delicious that I’m not convinced it isn’t actually a soda. In fact, it pisses me off that I can love a LaCroix flavor so much. This is 100 percent my favorite flavor. Unrelatedly: If this is your jam, there’s nothing embarrassing about you and you have no flaws.